


Revolutionaire

by angelatflightrisk



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Abuse, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Rebellion, Slavery, Slow Burn, a master/slave relationship isnt romanticized au, i promise this isnt all criticism for how the show handles its characters and relationships, pearl and bismuth are MAD cute, pearl doesnt have to live with her abuser for the rest of forever au, rose isnt a messiah figure for the rest of forever despite being actually the worst au, takes place during the war and will probably span over thousands of years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:06:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelatflightrisk/pseuds/angelatflightrisk
Summary: She existed, then, to be pretty. To be quiet and obedient and of service.





	Revolutionaire

**Author's Note:**

> HEY!! this is the first chapter of my new longfic that im gonna be spending A Lot Of Time on now that ive finished flying too close. passes out

It is dark where she is, and cold. In a technical sense, she isn't really anywhere. Or, rather, she is nowhere. There is nothing left but her and the mellow cold, the quiet and the dark.

Pearl remembers days, a thousand years or so ago, when this process took time. It once took care and patience, the pieces of her coming so gently apart and so carefully back together, the clothing she would wear stitching itself together ever so carefully, wrapping around her, prettily, gentle pink curls falling over her face and curling up her neck. The bright blue of her eyes carefully finding itself again, and emerging in light and beauty and service.

She existed, then, to be pretty. To be quiet and obedient and of service. And while it was unfavorable, like a little porcelain doll she was treated with a certain care, certainly more care than other service gems. Other property gems.

Some gems were made to fight and conquer and destroy and be destroyed, to live in pain and anguish. Pearl was simply made to please. For a while, that worked for her, in the same way she supposed war and agony worked for the soldiers below.

These days, however, she is not allowed even that. Pearl was made to please, and like the little doll she is, she is not built for war. And yet, she finds herself in the heart of the same kind of horrible war the fear of which kept her obedient. And still she fights.

In the name of Rose Quartz, and everything that she believes in. If Pearl were to think about it, if she had the time to, she'd wonder what it was that her liege believed in. Beauty? Comfort? Pleasure?

But she doesn't have the time. It is dark where she is, and cold. Mere moments ago she was pierced through her abdomen with a sword taller than her, and then she was gone. The nothingness that used to be so calm and cool is harsh and violent and bitterly cold, and there is nothing in her but the need to be back, to return.

In a flash of light that is quick and without beauty and without care, a beam of light that is so sudden and abrupt, she lands on her knees against cool marble. She blinks, quickly, too quickly, trying to bring the life back into her eyes.

She is almost sure that her form is okay. That it will do. She scrambles to small feet, to shaking and thin legs, checking that she is functional. She turns to face the mirror.

Rose placed that mirror there for exactly this. She is thoughtful, she is kind, and she cares for Pearl. She turns her head to the side, then to the other, checking, inspecting. She is alright. It will do.

The first few times this happened she tore from the nothing screaming, screaming for Rose, and she appeared startled and unsettled, looking down on her.

Pearl remembers, these days, to be quiet.

She stares into her own blue eyes, quiet, her chest heaving, swallowing panic and sound. And when she is absolutely still, when she is absolutely quelled, she turns carefully, silently, and she pads across the white room, to the corridor that is white, and peeks carefully into a doorway adorned with pink satin.

So many times Pearl had reformed and returned to this room to see Rose in bed with a man, her mouth opened in pleasure, her pretty eyes closed against her soft cheeks. Pearl has learned to be careful.

She is surprised to find Rose alone, sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling in a light way at the doorway. Pearl finds her cheeks flushing blue.

"My--" She stops herself, and her eyes flicker briefly to the ground as she moves to stand wholly in the doorway, her back straight, her shoulders back, "Rose."

"There you are," The way her voice sounds, so soft and pretty, gentle and alluring and filling the room in such a small and intimate and overwhelming way, "Come here."

Pearl obeys, coming forward into the room, slowly, her hands clasped prettily over her tummy. They come forward with no hesitation when Rose takes them in her hands, and spreads them out on either side of her. Pearl is quiet, and when Rose twirls her slowly she obliges, and when Rose lets go of her, her diamond is smiling.

"You look good."

"Thank you."

"You're getting better at this. At reforming so fast. I felt so awful for you when you would come out panicking, or deformed, or both."

It's an embarrassing statement, one that brings shame burning hot on Pearl's cheeks, and Rose kisses the place where her jaw meets her ear in a soft way, "It was so sad."

"Were you alright?"

"Yes, thanks to you," Rose smiles, those pretty pink curls falling around her shoulders. She is so beautiful. She is so beautiful, and Pearl wants to fall into her, "I hate asking you to do this."

Pearl is fairly certain Rose means that, but it doesn't matter. She must. Pearl was not built for war, but the only way to be absolutely certain that her diamond would never be discovered, the truth, what she really was, was to be absolutely certain she was never hurt. The thought of it, of her gem falling to the ground, bright and pure and so clearly diamond... Pearl couldn't stand it, and it was her responsibility to prevent it.

She'd die a thousand arbitrary deaths. She'd die a real one, one day, if it came to it.

"I'm alright," Pearl tells her, and Rose doesn't push it. She smiles, trailing her finger along Pearl's jaw, and then her chest, her waist. Pearl is still, her hands clasped behind her. Rose looks at her, and then she rises.

"Thank you, Pearl," She says.

Pearl nods, small, eyes fixed on the darkness in Rose's own. Rose turns, and Pearl watches her leave. Then leaves herself.

Gems are made so specifically, and Pearl was made to please. To please Pink Diamond, and nothing else. And all the talk of revolution and every time she has felt halfway free and declared that she belonged to nobody, it is all lies in the end. All of it, lies. She is not free, and she is still a good and loyal and quiet pearl, and she has not an ounce of rebellion inside of her. She is no renegade, and she is no revolutionary. She is a pearl, and she does as she is told.

And as she walks through paths lined with rebels and lionhearts, filled with laughter and the taste of freedom, none of it can resonate with her. None of it could ever resonate with her.

These gems are learning how to be real, how to exist free of their chains, learning who they are when they are not a cog in a machine built to please the Diamonds.

And Pearl is no one, not without Pink. Without Rose. She is a fraud among these gems, and she knows it, and they never will.

"Pearl!"

With an effort, her steps stop, and she looks over her shoulder, and up. The gem before Pearl stands tall, strong, valiant, straight, her shoulders back and a kind of ease in the tilt of her head, the way her hair laid heavily on her strong shoulders, the small smile on her face.

"Hey, dollface."

"Bismuth," The name falls softly from her lips, and she turns completely to face her, her chin tilted up to meet her eyes. The gem laughs lightly, takes her by the hand and pulls her gently off of the path, out of the way of passing gems. Pearl looks over her shoulder, her small feet landing lightly in the grass, flowers growing at her ankles. Earth is so astoundingly beautiful, and it was made for no one.

She turns her head back to Bismuth, who is now on one knee in front of her, so that Pearl can look straight ahead at her, so that she is on her level rather than looking up to her, so that Bismuth is not above her. Bismuth lets go of her hand, and Pearl reaches up and rests it lightly on Bismuth's shoulder.

Bismuth's voice is low and smooth, "How are you doing, beautiful?"

"I'm alright."

"Yeah?" Bismuth does not look convinced, the tilt of her head so gentle, the soft light of the evening pressed up against her, like a halo behind her, "Because I could have sworn I saw you fallen this morning."

"This morning?" Pearl repeats. The time frame does surprise her. Bismuth searches her face for a reaction, and likely finds none. Keeping quiet and still is a part of Pearl.

"That's fast," Bismuth says softly, but with meaning, and Pearl's face flushes blue, "Even for you."

"I'm a fighter."

"You're your own gem," Bismuth's hand falls on her waist, gentle, "You don't have to try so hard to get yourself shattered."

"I haven't been shattered yet."

Bismuth gives her a look, and Pearl looks away. Her gaze turns towards the roses at Bismuth's feet, pink and prim in the evening sun, the cotton candy sky soon to turn to black and fade away. Bismuth's hand tightens a fraction on her waist, and Pearl sees her tense out of the corners of her eyes.

"Pearl? What's wrong?"

Pearl hadn't realized until Bismuth said that that she had started crying, and once she realizes it there is no stopping it. The tears pour from her blue eyes, silent, rolling down pale cheeks and falling against Bismuth's knee. Her shoulders rise, her hand retreating from Bismuth's shoulder to feel the tears, shaking and quiet.

"I'm-- I'm so sorry."

"Okay, doll, we're gonna go to my place. Yeah? That sound okay?"

Pearl nods faster than she likely should, her fingers curling against her cheek. Bismuth sweeps her swiftly off of her feet, holding her securely against her chest, and Pearl hides her wet face in her. Bismuth lets her, silent, carrying her quietly off. If anyone notices, they have the decency to look the other way.

 

"Comfortable?"

Pearl nods, her head tilted down, her hands slipping from around Bismuth's shoulders to fall into her own lap, fiddling with the smooth texture there. There are no ribbons, no frill, no skirt. She is dressed for war.

Bismuth's bed is softer than Pearl thought it would be. Not quite as soft as Pearl's, made by Rose. But soft, still, and welcoming, the colors dark and mellow and calming. Gems don't need to sleep, it was always considered something of a delicacy, a privilege. If one's status was high, so was their lifestyle, and they had the time and the comfort to sleep. And low class gems did not have that luxury, their time and their lives dedicated to those they served.

Sleep is very nice, and freed gems love it. Everyone sleeps now. Even Pearl, sometimes.

Bismuth stands quietly, looking at her. Pearl doesn't return the look, until she finally does, her head tilting bashfully up.

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for." A pause, and her voice is soft and low when she says, "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing," Pearl says, and she means it, "I-- I don't know what's wrong with me."

Bismuth is quiet for a moment before she lowers herself, kneeling at the edge of the bed to gather both of Pearl's hands in her own, "Everyone here is struggling with the idea of being free. But out of all of us, Pearl, it's pretty clear you have the hardest time."

Pearl goes cold. Her lithe fingers twitch in Bismuth's hands, "What do you mean?"

"You go about things as if you're still there. As if you still exist for Pink's pleasure. As if your purpose is still to sacrifice yourself, your own wellbeing, your own happiness, for someone else's comfort. That isn't why you're here."

Pearl can't breathe, "Bismuth--"

"It's been so long, Pearl. She's dead. We shattered her so that those she kept down could be free. So you could be free."

A frail, pale hand slips from Bismuth's palm and clasps itself with finality over Pearl's mouth. Her pretty blue eyes close, and they stay closed. Bismuth shifts in front of her.

"Hey, you're shaking. Talk to me. What's the matter?"

 _She isn't dead,_ Pearl wants to say. _She's here and she's leading us. I follow her blindly and I have never stopped. I don't deserve your respect and I don't deserve your kindness. You deserve your freedom. I know that the one who once kept these rebels down walks free, and I have said nothing for over a thousand years. I am in the same bonds I have always been in._

She says none of this, she can't, because both of her hands are clasped too firmly over her mouth.

Pearl can't help it, she really can't. Any halfway rebellious thought is extinguished so abruptly, so suddenly, and she can see Pink, Rose, her dark eyes glistening so beautifully in the light, bright and bold and breathtaking and perfect in any form, reminding her that everything she does and everything she will ever do is in Pink Diamond's name. By any name.

_"Tell me to stop."_

_"Please don't ever stop."_

And she won't. She won't ever stop, not as long as she lives. She is made to live and fight and die and be pretty for Rose, and she cannot stop. There is nothing she would like more than to stop, and she can't.

"Doll?"

"I have to tell you something," Pearl manages, and then her hands clasp back against her face. She is flushing blue, burning up. Bismuth's form casts a mellow shadow over her, unmoving, uncertain. What is she doing?

"What is it?"

"I-- I can't," Pearl says quickly, too quickly, rising from the bed and crossing the floor to the other side of the room, to the wall by the door, pressing her back up against the wall and staring at the ceiling.

"Didn't you just say you had to?" Bismuth asks over her shoulder, and there is not an ounce of cruelty in her voice. Just concern, perhaps a bit of desperation. She is worried about her friend. There is a heavy weight on Pearl's chest, like a stone.

"I have to," Pearl repeats, "And I can't."

"Is it about Pink? Did she do something to you?"

Pearl closes her eyes as tightly as she can, her fingers near tearing into her cheeks where her hands are clasped over her face once more.

Bismuth approaches, the heavy footfalls echoing through the room. Pearl feels the warmth of her standing before her even before she feels the gentle touch of her fingertips against the back of Pearl's hand, gently coaxing it away.

"Hey, beautiful," Bismuth says softly, lowering herself again onto one knee, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Nothing that happened to you with her was your fault. You were her property, and it was wrong. That is exactly why we fight."

"Bismuth, you don't understand."

"No, I don't," Her voice is still so gentle, and as much as Pearl would like to scream and cry because she is so spectacularly missing the point, she is so comforting, and so warm, and Pearl falls right into her embrace shaking and frail when she opens her arms for her.

"I don't understand," Bismuth says, "How could I? I could never perfectly understand what you went through, just like you could never perfectly understand what I went through. Both of us went through our own nightmares in fulfilling our purposes, and so did everyone else here. But that's all over now."

Pearl doesn't answer. She can't. The betrayal was so severe, in trying to tell Bismuth something so sacred and volatile. And the guilt of coming so close to defying her diamond fills her almost as much as the anguish at the knowledge that Bismuth is wrong. It isn't over.

"Have you been sleeping?" Bismuth asks her, after a silence. Pearl shakes her head against Bismuth's chest.

"I haven't had the time," It's only partly a lie. It's true, she doesn't really have the time. But more importantly, whenever she tries she is filled with such anxiety it makes her restless, and she'd rather be productive, somehow. Bismuth hums, a deep vibration in her chest as she stands with Pearl in her arms.

"You should. It'll do you good."

"It hasn't been working."

"You can stay here, if you'd like to. I can help. Whatever makes you happy."

Pearl hesitates, before she nods, again, and she knows Rose will expect her back before night. But somehow Pearl can't face her now, can't stand the thought of looking her in the eyes after this spark of rebellion. That's ironic in it's own way-- Rose Quartz is the leader of the rebellion, and yet Pearl has swallowed a stone composed of her own revolution.

And the guilt of that weighs her down, and the stone itself weighs her down, and she feels heavy and dull, and she is cursing herself for having the nerve to doubt Rose.

Bismuth lays her down so gently on the bed, and then lays down beside her, her arms behind her own head, humming when Pearl moves to use her chest as a pillow.

"Is that alright?"

"Thank you," Pearl says, her voice softer than it usually is, and quieter. Neither of them speak again, and Pearl falls away to sleep.

 

The room is white, and blue, and yellow, and pink. Pearl blinks in the moonlit haze, blue eyes turning up to the galaxies above her, trying to make sense of it all.

Frills and ribbons and bows fall around her so prettily, so gracefully, and she is neat and clean and prim, washed in white light, gleaming in the grace of the diamond's great kindness. They are fond of her, and she lives to serve.

"It won't work."

She turns her head to the whisper, the ghost of the whisper, the speaker's voice shaking, quivering, hushed and fearful. And yet somehow bold.

"It will work. It's already working, it's in motion," Her own voice, coming from her lips in a murmur, easy. She recites the dialogue so effortlessly.

Pearl turns, and the sight touches her eye so naturally. A gem in blue, her hands clasped prettily over her chest, her face tilted down. A gem in yellow, her shoulders and her back straight, standing tall, her chin up.

"We can't do this, Pink," the girl in yellow's voice is always so bold, and yet now it is shaking, quiet, hushed, "It's different for you, you aren't running away from anyone. Your diamond is coming with you."

"Don't tell her that as if it's better," The one in blue does not lift her chin when she speaks, and the sound of her voice is as soft as the clouds of Earth.

"Pink is better than Yellow _or_ Blue, Blue. You know that, and so does she."

"Pink, try and understand," The blue girl does lift her chin this time, coming forward in soft, gentle grace, her frail hand on Pearl's frail shoulder, "They'll have us shattered."

Pearl is quiet, searching both of their faces for a tender moment.

"She wants to protect the Earth,” Her voice is soft, “She wants... she wants to have fun. And everyone who follows her isn't fighting for that, they're fighting for us. For gems. My diamond is still herself, but so are those she leads. We can fight back. We have to," The words fall from her lips easily, and she is surprised. Did she really say that, all those years ago? Was she really so bold?

"And if you won't come, we will take the fight to Homeworld,” She says, and she is sure of it, “We'll come back for all of you. Things are going to change."

“I wish that were true, Pink,” Blue says softly, and the memory falls away. Pearl’s chest aches in such a real and fundamental way. After all these years, her days are filled with war and Rose. That is all. She is set apart from the others. Nothing has changed, and her dearest friends, the gems on Homeworld who may as well have been her sisters are still on Homeworld, still in bondage.

Blue is still folding her hands pretty over her chest, and Yellow is still holding hers pretty behind her back. Pearl knows it inside herself. And they both still sing in their cages, and the only thing that has changed is that now they have been abandoned.

The tears roll down her cheeks, and her chest hurts. It hurts so much, and she falls to her knees, begins to cough, violent, and as much as she fights the pain will not cease. She claws at her own throat, and petals fall from her mouth. Flowers create ripples in the water below her as she coughs them up, and shards grow from under her skin. She is made of pain and there is no escape.

 

The darkness is replaced so quickly and suddenly with the impossibly harsh light of the morning. She screams, and then she falls, and she feels her back hit the ground, the wind leaving her lungs. She hears a gasp, and overlapping it loud laughter, filling the room, big and bright and overwhelming.

It is unmistakable, and panic fills her.

She sits up straight, scrambling to, her legs folded under her painfully, her hands folded in her lap and her arms straight, her head tilted up to the pair, "Rose!"

"Oh, Pearl, I'm so sorry," Rose is looking over the side of the bed down at her, the bed sized for Bismuth too tall for Rose to see her on the ground without doing so, a bright and carefree smile on her pretty face, laughter in her voice, "I didn't mean to scare you that bad. You were just so cute and peaceful, I couldn't help it."

Pearl feels her face blush bright blue, hot, her head tilting back down to face the stone ground, embarrassed, impossibly so.

"Oh, Rose," Bismuth mumbles, "Leave her alone, she had a rough night--"

Panic.

"No I didn't!" She rises so suddenly from the ground, so abruptly, standing straight, shoulders back, face still burning brightly blue, "I-- I was fine."

Silence falls uneasily. Rose blinks, looking surprised, and then confused, tilting her head just slightly. Bismuth wears a similar expression, but different. Confusion, and then that confusion is carefully concealed, along with the concern.

Bismuth doesn't know what's going on, but she will let Pearl get away with her little rebellion anyway, unknowingly. It is impossibly merciful, and Pearl wants to cry.

"Rough night?" Rose repeats, softly, confused, and then her eyes light up, and she smiles a perverse smile, her shoulders pulling up in a pretty way, her curls tousling with every little movement, "Oh, I get it. _That_ kind of rough night."

"W-what?" Pearl chokes on her own words, straightening even more, rising to her tiptoes. She can't stand to look at Bismuth, who tenses in her peripheral, "No!"

"Oh, you're so cute," Rose reaches forward and pinches her cheek, and Pearl winces, still blushing so brightly, still so ashamed and disoriented. Rose laughs, looking over her shoulder at Bismuth, "I hope you weren't too rough with her. She's awfully delicate."

A beat of silence passes, where Bismuth says nothing, before Rose laughs again, turning back to Pearl, her eyes bright, "Anyway, enough of that. Come back with me, I have something to show you."

Pearl forces herself still, quiet, and nods, "Okay."

Rose beams, and grabs her hand as she leads her out of the place. Pearl swallows, and she notices that the impossibly harsh light from before was nothing. It is not bright, it is soft and mellow as always in Bismuth's place.

There is no harsh light, and Pearl is still so disoriented as she looks back over her shoulder, feeling the real light of day hit her face as Rose pulls her away, catching a glimpse of Bismuth's concerned face. And then the door closes, and she is gone. There is nothing left but Pearl, and Rose, and Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a steven universe tumblr now! i post art! wow!
> 
> https://littlerenegadepearl.tumblr.com/


End file.
